


(Gratuitous hurt Will fic)

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: (Gratuitous hurt Will fic)
Genre: Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Just some unconnected hurt Will because I felt like it, Whump, Will Halstead Whump, You can leave prompts for other eps but please tell me if you liked what I wrote too, hurt will halstead, plain and simple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Just some hurt Will halstead, for all your hurt Will Halstead needs.First ep has some bleeding out trapped in an elevator and sadnessSecond ep has some fainting and some helpful and concerned Connor Rhodes (fluffy-ish)Third ep has knives! Blood loss! And Jay!
Relationships: Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Just Will and people, Natalie Manning & Will Halstead, Will Halstead & April Sexton, Will Halstead & Connor Rhodes (Chicago Med)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

He was bleeding.

He was trapped in that elevator with no way up or down, and he was bleeding copiously, so much so that he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

There had been a shooter in the hospital. Possibly someone who hadn't gotten quick enough care for a loved one, or someone who blamed one of them or all them for a close person's death. Sometimes, especially when a death is sudden and comes out of nowhere it's just easier to blame someone else.

The doctors, for example.

And so this man came in, guns blazing and shot all around him.

He got Will twice. Once in the forearm, luckily through and through, and another in the stomach. He hadn't been as lucky with that one, the bullet was still inside. He'd practically been thrown to the lift behind him, and he fell, onto the floor of the lift, hurting hi head as he went down too. Of course.

And then he seemed to have lost some time.

When he opened his eyes again, the lights of the elevator were off or blinking, and the thing seemed to be stuck in its place. Not going up or down, not moving. Just trapped there, like he himself was trapped, too weak to scream for help, too weak to move up a ventilation shaft or something. He couldn't move, and it was probably best if he didn't, as he'd probably only make him lose blood even quicker.

Some part of him knew that he should be trying to stop the bleed, applying some pressure, something. But he was so so tired, moving all of that much seemed absolutely impossible. He'd probably pass out while trying - he wasn't too far from it.

The lift came in and out of focus, sometimes disappearing, sometimes just losing its edges and getting terribly blurry and then sharp again. He could hear the faint echo of alarms and people screaming beyond the walls of the lift, and tried to worry. But it was hard.

Thinking was hard, and just breathing was so painful, so difficult... But he had to breathe, didn't he? Even if it hurt. He was used to pain, and he was used to pushing though pain. Even working despite pain had been something that etched to him, when he got hurt he kept on going, he had to help, for everyone else...

But now he had no strength. Perhaps because there was no one around that immediately needed his help. Well, he kind of did, but other people had always been the priority. His brother, his patient, everyone he worked with, his patients again, his head was swimming and thoughts wouldn't form...

He opened his eyes again. When had he closed them? It was a bit concerning, the lack of control he seemed to have over his own state of alertness. The pain of his stomach was sharper now, and he, as a doctor, knew that this meant...? What did this mean? Why couldn't he remember? No matter how he tried, he couldn't remember his medical... anythings.

The only thoughts that he could form, for some reason, were regrets. Bad decisions, things he could have/should have done better, people whose time he wasted, one thousand and one mean words directed his way that suddenly rang very true. Perhaps it was some sort of depression related to bloodloss, who knew, but the fact was that while he couldn't move enough muscles to scream for help, he could, and indeed was, crying.

Fuck.

How were the others? Were they safe? Natalie, Maggie, Elsa, had they been hit too? Had the situation resolved? He couldn't hear much outside of the lift and decided it was a good sign. The floor of the lift was getting completely drenched in his own blood which was a terrible sign.

Would they find him soon? Would finding him dead be traumatic for whoever it was? Better if it was someone that didn't know him all that well, then, so if it would just be tragic, but not painful. Had anyone even noticed that he was gone?

Well, maybe this way...

Maybe...

If he....

God, it hurt. It really hurt a lot.

Maybe it would hurt a bit less if he just... let go for a bit...

*

April was used to blood, it was part of her job. She'd seen gallons of it, she'd been drenched in it, she'd held organs in her hands. She didn't (couldn't) have a delicate stomach and she was not faint of heart.

But when that elevator opened and she saw the inside, she stopped breathing.

At no time had it occurred to her that Will might be injured, that he could even be dead. Because they couldn't find him, it meant that he hadn't come in, and that was it. Yeah, thy could use with his help, but it was probably better that he'd stayed away, he didn't need the extra pain, after all he'd seen, and been put to.

Didn't need this.

And while the most functional part of April was absolute locked and frozen and trying to understand what she was seeing, trying to process the fact that Will Halstead was dead or dying, some more primal automatic part of help was already screaming for help, moving people, getting orders, applying pressure.

Will was not dead, but he was not far from it, either.

She left him in the care some new doctors that had been brought in, and looked at her hands. Somehow, it was different knowing that it was his blood. Familiar, always there, comforting. She thought of him, alone, in that elevator, bleeding out, probably losing hope of getting help with every second that passed...

No.

The storm had passed.

Now they had to fix it.

Fix the horror.

*

There was someone talking, and that was the first thing that Will noticed.

The pain was still there, but it was quieted, minimised. He felt absolutely drained, but not a tiny bit stronger than before. He was hurt, and tired, and sore, but still, it felt like if he slept for a couple of weeks, and probably with medication, he could be okay.

And he was not bleeding. He was bandaged.

He opened his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, but this time it was different.

There was no lift, and he wasn't alone with his blood and his regrets. There was... people.

"Look who's back!" Maggie.

"Scared the shit out of us, buddy." Connor.

"How are you feeling?" Natalie.

They were okay, and he smiled, a little, painful, but genuine smile.

He was going to have more scars, yes, but...

He'd made it.


	2. Faint

It comes really out of the blue, Connor barely had time to react.

There hadn't been really anything to suggest that Will wasn't okay. Yeah, he was kinda pale but the dude was in general really fair-skinned, so it didn't feel it was cause for concern. And he had been working all day, going from one place to another, looking after the patients, dealing with Goodwin and the big guns...

So, really he'd seemed perfectly all right. The same Will as usual, working hard and making decisions and being a stubborn ass. And Connor wanted to slap himself for not seeing it, because he was a doctor too, supposedly a good one, but he hadn't seen it.

And out of the blue, he just noticed that Will started blinking a bit too much, and seemed to be holding on to the locker a bit too strongly...

"Will? You okay?"

And those dark eyes were looking at him, as if surprised, as if wanting to say "what the hell are you talking about", and he was swallowing and looking at him, and for a moment it was really fucking intense and Connor didnt know if he should be embarrassed, if he should be blushing or what....

And then the eyes rolled up, ("WILL!") and Connor was trying hold on to all that ginger boneless doctor as his weight fell on him. Shit, shit, shit. Will had passed out quite literally on top of him.

While still quite frantically calling his name (Will, Will come on!) Connor tried to gather himself and do something logical, fix this. He'd been in this kind of situation many times, it had just surprised him that his friend would collapse like that. But he had to focus.

He maneuvered Will onto the bench in front of the lockers and tried to take his vitals. He was breathing, but it was too slow, as was his pulse. He was going to call for help when he felt something on his arm, the shadow of a hand, and a whisper:

"... no hospital..."

Connor couldn't believe his ears.

"NO HOSPITAL!? Will, we're at a hospital! I can't not take to a hospital, we're already there!"

But Will's eyes were closing again and Connor kept slapping his cheeks, trying to get him to stay.

"Will, hey, no, don't check out on me again,"

"...no..."

"Will, come on! Don't you know where you are? Do you know who I am? Will, hey, Will, what's my name?"

How had Connor and everyone else not seen it? Will was white as sheet, and was he skinnier? He was, wasn't he? Fuck.

"Will, hey... If the next thing you're saying is "no doctor" we're going to have a problem, buddy. That's it, you keep your eyes on me, Will"

"... not Jay."

"No, I'm not your brother, no" should he be concerned about this disorientation? It felt like he should.

"Ok, Will, buddy, I know you're not going to like this but you need some medical attention, all right, so I'm going to pick you up, and take you to a bed."

Was he even listening? Will's eyes were open now, but unfocused. Something bad was going on, and had been going on for a bit too long to be a simple dizzy spell.

And so the surgeon picked his friend up in his arms, hoping that this would be the easy way, even if having Will hold on to his neck was proving complicated (he kept whispering "I'm Fine" while Connor manhandled him as if he were a doll, and it would be fun if he wasn't so damn worried).

So he got out of the locker room with a semi-conscious doctor in his arms, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

"I need a bed, now."

Connor also asked for a bunch of other tests, and April and Maggie were around in no time, with a sad expression, but determined to keep being as professional as usual.

Connor deposited Will on the bed and wondered how he'd been running around until a few minutes before - he must have known that there was something wrong, he was a doctor too. But it was true that doctors were the worst patients. Now there was a bit of vomit of Connor's scrubs and he was CONCERNED.

"Why is he so disoriented?" Maggie asked.

"Hell if I know. And he's been like this for a few minutes, I'm getting worried."

Will kept mumbling that he was fine and that he didn't want to go to the hospital, until he passed out again.

Nothing major seemed to be wrong, but they concluded that it had been an unfortunate mix of low blood sugar, exhaustion, dehydration and just general overworking.

Will, still admitted and sitting on his hospital bed, kept saying that he was fine. You know, like a liar.

"Funny, that was also what you said while you were half conscious and asked for no hospitals while in the locker room of a hospital."

"I..."

"I've known you for years, and yet the only thing you could remember was that I was not your brother."

"I wasn't fine, but I am now."

"That's what you were repeating just after you puked on me? Do you even remember that?"

Will rolled his eyes.

"I think we have stablished that you're not a reliable authority on when you're fine or not, so you will only be released when I am completely satisfied with the tests AND after you're coming to my place so I can keep an eye on you, and make sure that you are actually and in fact, fine."

Will made a face.

"Isn't that a bit of overkill?"

"If I hadn't been with you on the locker room when you passed out you could have hit your head, got a serious brain injury. You were not fine, Will. Let me make sure that you are now."

There was a small smile on the ginger doctor's eyes.

"All right, all right. But I get to choose dinner, at least. And what's on tv."

Connor returned the smile.

"Sure, buddy."

As long as you're fine.


	3. Chapter 3

"You will pay for this!"

It's not the first time Jay has head such a claim (not by a long shot), and it won't the last, either. Many criminals and criminal adjacent people, along with some innocents that were in a bad place in a bad moment. Yes, a lot of people had told Jay this exact same sentence.

"I swear! You hear me? You'll pay!"

But there was something... Special about this time, abut the way it was being said, about the amount of certainty behind it. Something made the detective look back, shiver.

"Mark my words!"

He knew logic and experience told him that most of the time the threats were empty (these people ended up in jail anyhow, what could they do?), but still something about this particular threat had made Jay feel uneasy.

He tried to ignore the bad feeling in his gut, continue with his life, surely this was nothing, right? Surely he had nothing to worry about.

But the thing was, Jay had always had good instincts. Usually that was something good, but this time...

*

He could smell it as soon as he arrived to his apartment door.

Blood, and lots of it. Something or someone was bleeding inside that door, so how did they lock it again? Noticing that his heart was beating faster, Jay opened the door, only to notice that the smell was stronger, and to see a big red stain in front of him.

A big red stain of blood coming from....

"Will!"

The words "IT'S ON YOU" had been carved onto Will's chest, with a knife or something like that. And they were deep, bloody hell, the cuts were very deep and he had lost a lot of blood already.

Will was unconscious, no matter how many times he called his name, no matter how many times he slapped his cheeks, no matter what he did. And there was so much blood... Will had never a tan person, but now he was white as a sheet and it was probably because of the bloodloss and how much more could he really lose?

He needed to call an ambulance, Jay knew, but his hands were sticky with blood and Will was unconscious and... Hell, had he been awake while they carved those words on him? Would he be scarred forever because he had a stupid brother who'd chosen a stupid career?

Will did not deserve this. Will was a dedicated doctor who had saved so many lives, maybe a lot of people's lives better. It was his passion, and he'd done it, he'd bettered the world for so many people, even when it was against the rules, he'd been there for his colleagues too, he....

He was bleeding out. Now he was bleeding out, pale and unmoving, in his brother's arms.

All to send a message. All to make him pay.

Jay was trying, he was trying desperately to stop the bleeds, with his own shirt, with other ones that he had around.... Not Will. Not his brother, who had bandaged his own injuries with a smile as a kid. Kids had been mean to Will, often, bullying him, roughing him up, but he'd made it. He'd always made it.

Bombs, cyanide, flesh-eating bacteria... Will had been in the front lines of it all, and he'd made it.

And now... Just because he...

"C'mon, Will... "Jay said, teary "you have to wake up. You gotta... I can't lose you too."

His pulse was too weak, Jay didn't need to be a doctor to know that was bad news. Fuck. Not Will, fuck, fuck, where was the ambulance?

Jay held his unconscious brother, closer to him, to his own chest. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming, and the fact that this was Will's blood... He needed to make things better, he couldn't just lose him like this.

And then.... Hope.

The sound of the ambulance, getting closer

"HERE!! HELP!!! IT'S HERE!!"

*

He looked like a ghost. Jay was sitting on a chair by his brother's bedside, looking at Will with a heartbroken expression.

Sure, Maggie didn't know Jay as well as she did Will, but she knew that even though he was white, he wasn't supposed to be that white. They'd practically had had to move him to the toilet, he'd been nearly catatonic.

And he kind of had good reason to.

What they'd done to Will... That awful message, written in blood.... And they nearly weren't on time, either, he's heart had stopped for a good minute in the OR. But now, a couple of surgeries to repair internal damage and 96 stitches later, it looked like Will had a chance. That he was gonna make it, like he always did. And that was what mattered.

"Jay, honey?" she said, slowly approaching the detective.

"Do you want to go home for a bit, get some sleep? Will won't wake up for a few hours.

They had allowed Jay to shower in the hospital and given him some spare clothes so he wouldn't be going around drenched in his brother's blood, but he still looked like a ghost.

"How long do you think it took?" Jay whispered, silent tears going down his cheeks "Until he passed out."

"Darling, don't - don't hurt yourself like that. We got enough hurt for a while, don't you think?"

Jay looked at the nurse, tried to smile, failed miserably.

Will had nearly died, and it was on him.

They told him he would pay, as he looked at his still unconscious brother, he realised, that this was his punishment. Seeing his brother in pain, perhaps scarred for life. Just because of him.

Will had been the message...

And Jay was paying dearly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
> 
> You know you want to comment ;)


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